


Delicatessen

by ladyblack888 (888mph)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Blackcest, Cockroaches, F/F, F/M, Gore, Horror, Maggots, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/888mph/pseuds/ladyblack888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It knows the worst is the silence, Bellatrix alone with herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicatessen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSpine (Archon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archon/gifts).



> Originally written on March, 2006.

I.  
At first Bellatrix could still keep track of time. Trough the small gap in the wall she could see the light coming and going, sunset and sunrise. Bellatrix would mark each day with her fingers on the the dirt, until her nails broke and her red calendar would be the only colour amid the shadows.

But they would come and go, too, and Bellatrix wouldn’t know how many sunrises and sunsets they spent with her, if for a day, a week or just one second. And soon Bellatrix forgot what the light outside the gap meant, and the bloodmark of days desappeared.

 

II.  
Now a day is when they come and go, with fingers of ice and robes of wind, and if Bellatrix still remembered how to count, she’d be one hundredth years old.

But one always stays behind. It’s smaller than its peers, its tattered robes thinner. Bellatrix thought it harmless at first, but now, with what remains of her clarity, she knows better.

There are sounds in Azkaban. The tears, the sweat and the piss condence on the ceiling of the prison, creating a never ending rain in every corner, a constant drip. The piti-pater of cockroaches and the cries and sobs of the prisioners.  
But when they pass, they leave only silence in their wake, the noises freezing with each breath they take.

And it stays behind with Bellatrix. The smaller one, the scavenger. It knows she hangs on to each sound, letting each noise revebrate on her mind, filling the void.

It knows the worst is the silence, Bellatrix alone with herself.

 

III.  
Bellatrix wakes up to something new. A smell so sweet it makes her empty stomach lurch, filling her troath with bile, her skin crawling.  
She sits up and maggots rain from her skin, her body, some trapped in her hair.  
Bellatrix knows the smell, the sweet smell of death.

A prisioner must have died and they are furious. One mind less for them to feed off.

They come inside, echoes of screams on their robes, their hands clawing at her skin, their lipless mouths touching her mind.

And then there’s silence.

 

IV.  
 _‘You’re not leaving, Andromeda!’_

_‘Are you going to stop me?’_

_‘You’re not leaving me.’_

_‘Why not? Why should I stay? I hate you, Bella.’_

_‘Stop it!’_

_‘I hate you!’_

_Bellatrix covers her ears with her hands, she doesn’t want to hear._

_‘I hate you.’_

_Hate._

_Hate fueling her body, Bellatrix jumps forward, wanting to shut her sister up, wanting to hold her back, not letting her flee.  
But Andromeda is faster. One move and her hand is on Bellatrix’s face, hard, stinging._

_Bellatrix touches her cheek, the mark of her sister’s fingers burning her skin._  
Its fingers are ice-cold.  
They touch her face like a caress, gentle.

Its finger are spidery, long, never-ending.  
 _She shudders under his touch, his long fingers tilting her head up._

_‘My Bella. My beautiful, loyal Bella.’ Voldemort’s voice is soft, a constant whisper._

_‘My Master.’_

It jerks her head back, forcing her to look at a face she cannot see.

‘No! Please, please don’t take this from me! NO!’

 

V.  
‘I KNOW YOU, BITCH! I KNOW YOUR VOICE...’

The words shouted from the other cell stop with a wail.

But Bellatrix recognises that scream. The boy. He was just a boy when he left the house. The blood-traitor.

Like Andromeda. 

 

VI.  
 _The kiss comes from soft lips.  
They laugh, nervous, the trill from the forbidden making it sweeter._

_Andromeda is beautiful, her lips red and her almost black eyes against skin so pale, so soft. And Bellatrix can see herself in her sister._

_Curves close around curves. Fingers with perfect nails touching her._  
 _Wet._  
Cold.

She’s so cold, its body wrapped around her, feeding off her. And it’s gone.

Gone.

Bellatrix can feel it laugh inside.


End file.
